


Stella Dei

by EchoSilverWolf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Character Study, Creation (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Remembers Heaven, Crowley Was A Seraphim, Crowley's Angel Name (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Gen, Genesis? I Don't Know Her, I Play My Own Game With This Universe, If You Are Looking For Biblical Accuracy You Won't Find It, Pre-Fall Crowley (Good Omens), Very Vague Whump (Memories)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSilverWolf/pseuds/EchoSilverWolf
Summary: She watched him, nodding Her approval, as he spun color into the flora as he had once painted it upon the cosmic void. Whelped streams, and trees along their banks laden with shiny fruits. A vast array of greenery and sweet edible things to nourish the sentient creatures who still slept under the shade of what had begun as the tiny seed She had entrusted to his care.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & God (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	Stella Dei

**Author's Note:**

> Just me dipping a toe back into writing. 
> 
> Shout out to my beta, and favorite person, englandwouldfalljohn(The Hedonistic Angel), who is ever so patient with fixing my 'oopsies'.
> 
> This little thing was born at 1am and is sort of a mashup of my own, and her, headcanon for Crowley before he fell. 
> 
> I hadn't planned on writing this, let alone posting it. But it turned out rather well, so... enjoy.
> 
> Just a heads up, Aziraphale is mentioned as is Lucifer, but this is pre-slash and soley about Crowley (and God) in The Before as well as his fall. I play fast and loose with Canon and the book of Genesis (the story of creation). 
> 
> The title is in Latin, and is explained at the end. 
> 
> Welcome to my middle of the night thoughts...

Crawley is not a holy thing, not anymore. He is a thing of Hell. A fallen Angel, or as the rest had taken to calling themselves, a Demon. He finds it a bit dramatic, that. But Lucifer always had been a bloody drama queen. Their current situation, why they fell, the direct result of one of his tantrums. Celestial Expulsion sounds better, he thinks. More creative...but no one ever asks him his opinion on matters anymore. Funny how one could go from being A Big Deal upstairs, to winding up at the bottom of the hellish totem pole down below. 

It feels like an eternity since he first came here, when he was a being of light, still shimmering with Her love. In reality, in the garden, it has only been days. Time is just a newborn concept here. Something meant for Her new playthings. Unlike Her immortal children, these wingless, powerless creatures have an expiration date. Like the stars, but far shorter. Crawley, unlike certain others, has never been jealous of the attention being given to these new creations. Curious, yes. Intrigued, too. In the first days, before his unfortunate ejection from the aether, and before She had woken them, he had liked to watch them sleep when he wasn't working. They came as all the creatures here had come; as a pair. Similar to each other, but different. They fascinated him immediately. From the moment She had called him from his first task, and taken his still stardusted hands in Hers as She granted him this new assignment, he was filled with a need for answers. As She told him he was to use the same extension of Her grace that had sparked light into the cosmos, to make this particular corner of space rock into a place they, and all Her newly created beings, could thrive, he was filled with wonder and a desire to understand everything about her plan for them. About all the future inhabitants of this Earth, and why they were so unlike those of Her creation in the heavens. 

At first, she had only smiled at his questions. Had him hold out his palm and placed a small seedling there. Such a tiny, curious thing, but already graced with life. A speck of green in the pristine and empty white of Heaven. She closed his fingers around this new life, and blessed his hands as She told him to grow Her a garden, a beautiful oasis of vegetation. Beautiful creations of every size and color that would provide shelter and sustenance to her humans and all the creatures who would live among them. 

And he had. He planted that small seed in the center of his canvas and then, drawing a finger through the sand, he willed it to be soft and plush and viridescent. Breathed life into each and every stalk and shoot and flower and watched in wonder as they reached for the bright star that was made to shine its light upon this place.

She watched him, nodding Her approval, as he spun color into the flora as he had once painted it upon the cosmic void. Whelped streams, and trees along their banks laden with shiny fruits. A vast array of greenery and sweet edible things to nourish the sentient creatures who still slept under the shade of what had begun as the tiny seed She had entrusted to his care. 

But as the garden flourished, his curiosities grew. There was now a barrier, immense and circling the whole of his paradise, separating it from the desert beyond. On this wall were stationed four other Angels. Principalities by the look of it. 

Why would such a place require guardians? What did She know that he was not privy to? Would Her new children be in danger when they awoke into consciousness? Question upon question he laid at her feet, but never were answers granted. Her smile faded more with each catechism.

Things went a bit sideways after that. As it happened, he was not alone in his inquisitiveness. Many of the higher choirs, her architects, who had been blessed to assist with Earth's creation, joined to raise their voices together. To make themselves heard. The Morning Star rose to the front of their ranks, intent on using Her favor to gain the answers they sought. But he became more bitter with each unanswered inquiry, and full of jealousy with the lack of Her attention once She woke her sleeping earth children. 

Most of the others, like Crawley, had only sought to quench their curiosity. Lucifer, however, became angry at being ignored. No longer part of the growing number of Angels seeking innocent knowledge, Lucifer instead used their voices to speak for himself. Jaded and vengeful, he spat vitriol at The Almighty, ending in a threat to use the force of the upper choirs to take power for himself. Power he planned to use, in his treason, to destroy everything they had made in Her name. 

And so it happened that only days after the first humans woke, and on still unsteady legs began to explore the paradise Crawley had made them, Lucifer was cast out, exiled to the gaping maw of nothing below, and the floors of heaven trembled and cracked beneath the feet of terrified Angels who had only asked questions. Among them, the Angel that Crawley once was. His holy seraphic fire ripped from the center of his being in the wind-rush; a falling star going supernova, as his angelic core flared and burned away his grace.

Crawley is not a holy thing, not anymore. All that remained of that Angel upon impact was devoured by sulphuric flame. He had been born of fire, and reborn in it as well, as the raging blue conflagration ate away anything ethereal that survived the plummet down. What was left slithered out on its belly, burning cold and scaled. His two remaining wings, soot black and wind-tattered. His eyes now a bile-sick parody of their once celestial gold.

Crawley is not a holy thing, not anymore. But, standing here on the wall above a garden of his own creation, he is closer than he'd thought he could ever get to one again. When the sky opens and the first rains fall, he sidles up close to the Angel next to him, Eden's Eastern guardian, that has offered him shelter beneath a pristine white wing. Feels the grace and warmth of _this_ holy thing, and remembers what it was like to be filled with love. 

Seven days ago, Crawley was still a holy thing. She called him Her Star, and took hold of his hands. Gifted him a seedling and the ability to create life on barren land. He who had created the galaxies and nebulae in the heavens, sent to create trees and grass upon the earth, now just an abandoned abomination without even a real name. Fallen Angels don't get to carry holy monikers. Crawley was cursed to be called only as that creature who had crawled, burnt and broken, from a pool of sulphur and despair.

But Crawley remembers when he was a holy thing. Standing here under an Angel's wing as the rain slows and his first creations blink their light through the stratosphere. He had been bright and fierce and made of starfire. The universe, and time itself, begun by his hand. Fallen ones don't forget their time above; forgetting would be a kindness, and unholy things are undeserving of Her mercy. Crawley remembers everything. On Her tongue he was called Kokabiel, 'Star of God', and he had been a holy thing. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is Latin for The Star of God. Which is the meaning of the Angel Kokabiel's name.
> 
> Kokabiel is listed in the book of Enoch as a fallen Angel and is linked to, and said to have taught ,astronomy to mankind.
> 
> Crowley as a fallen Kokabiel has been my personal headcanon since I first watched the show.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Come scream about all things Good Omens with me on Twitter/Tumblr/Instagram. I am EchoSilverwolf on all three. 
> 
> *Please do not repost my work on other websites*


End file.
